


Sun and Moon and Samuel

by Tintentrinkerin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Come as Lube, Dark Magic, Dark!Jack, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mind Control, POV: Perpetrator, Somnophilia, Soulless!Jack - Freeform, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29217654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tintentrinkerin/pseuds/Tintentrinkerin
Summary: Jack's soul is burnt out and things are different now. He develops a habit of watching Sam sleep.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	Sun and Moon and Samuel

**Author's Note:**

> I will warn you ONE LAST TIME.  
> In this fic, Sam is assaulted.  
> There's no consensual sex, there's a dark, very, very Dark Jack, and also a very dubious thing going on with Dean.  
> Please do not read this fanfiction, if you get triggered by these elements in fiction.  
> Take care of yourself, okay?

Sometimes Sam falls asleep in the most uncomfortable poses and places. His head would sink on the desk in the library, he passes out in the passenger seat of the Impala. Sometimes he drops like dead weight on the bed in a shabby old motel, fully clothed, not even slipping out of his shoes. 

Jack doesn’t sleep much. It’s hard for him to relax when needed. The ritual of sleep is weird to him. People go to bed for that. As soon as it’s dark outside, the sun has set, some people shower. Dean does. Sam showers in the morning. Castiel has no sense of night and day, sleeping or being awake. Humans, they brush their teeth, undress, then put on their pajama’s go to bed. Sam reads until he falls asleep. Dean listens to classic rock. And Jack? Jack sleeps maybe an hour or two. He doesn’t dream. At least not anymore since he burned his whole soul away. 

Did the snake sleep, before Jack gave it salvation?

To Jack, sleeping feels like being unconscious for a while and then just to wake up to realize it’s 3 o’clock in the morning and no one is awake but him. Nothing stirs. The bunker is pitch black and silent like a grave. Well, sometimes Dean can’t sleep and when Jack is on one of his nightly tours through the halls, he is tempted to sit by him, maybe ask him for a sip of whiskey, but he is never really sure about Dean. If Dean wants to protect or kill him. Jack is not afraid. He’s afraid of nothing anymore. He’s like the skeleton of a whale who died on the shore somewhere far away and the sea has washed away his flesh, his organs, his life. All that’s left is bleak white bones, a hollow rib cage where birds nest in spring after a successful mating season. 

The only thing that really catches Jack’s attention is Sam and his habits. Oh, Sam. 

When he still had his soul, Jack would say, he had a major crush on him. His heart would jump, his palms sweat, he would feel dizzy when they touched. Oh, how much he had loved it. Now, all of this is gone. It’s become a habit for Jack to study Sam. To find out who he really is. Deep down, under all these layers of sass, wisdom and his caring nature. There has to be more. There is always more to it, Jack must know. If there hadn’t been more to himself than being the offspring of Lucifer, he wouldn’t feel so hollow now. Something was taken from him and he wouldn’t miss it if it hadn’t been there in the first place. He tries imitating himself, but it’s like putting on a mask that doesn’t quite fit.

He clings onto the faint imprint of a romantic crush he felt for Sam. Something that had kept him absent-minded and focused at the same time. Falling back in love with him - Jack knows it won’t work but he tries anyway. 

Sam looks like an old oil painting when he sleeps. Jack would stand in his door for hours and just watch him shift and turn in his sheets. He sleeps naked and Jack is oddly fascinated about Sam’s noises, his dreams, the gasps and most of all, how his cock grows hard and then softens again, without Sam doing anything about it. Sometimes he would reach down to stroke himself once or twice in a short moment of waking, but he never does more. Sam’s sheets would always be pushed to the side. Sam needs it chill to sleep. Jack knows his habits by now. 

What he can’t ignore, is how his own body responds to what he sees. To Sam’s face, that switches from relaxed to twisted. In pleasure or pain, Jack can’t tell. Sam calls out in his sleep.  _ Dad, Mary, Dean. Cas. No. Adam. Leave me. Dean. Don’t do that. Help me, Dean! Please. Lucifer. Jess! _

Jack is so curious. He could make it easy and crack Sam’s mind open like a freshly laid egg. He could put his fingers in Sam’s psyche and stir it all up. He could dive his whole face inside this ocean of nightmares and hazy prophecies. What keeps him from doing it? He doesn’t want to see Sam broken. He wants Sam to be the way he is. 

Tonight is different. Like always, he stands in the open door, his eyes glowing and seeing Sam lying on his belly, his hips gently rocking in the mattress. There’s one of these moans, so vulnerable, so needy at the same time. Mumbled names and hands clenching in the sheets. Jack gulps when he finally stirs again and sneaks in the room. The faint lights from the hallway lighten his way. Jack hasn’t bothered putting his pajama’s on, he’s just in black briefs. 

Underneath, he’s throbbing and twitching at the sight of Sam’s muscular body and his perfect ass. Sam’s still gently humping the mattress, blanket wrapped around his stomach. Jack slides beside him in Sam’s bed. 

“What… no,  _ who _ do you dream of, Sam?”, Jack whispers. 

Sam only sighs, his strong hand is fisting the pillow. Jack’s eyes glow golden now, the lights outside flicker and dim down a little. It’s not that he uses the magic on purpose. It’s like breathing. This is why Dean sometimes looks like he wants to strangle him. Make him stop.

There’s a whisper, not more like a loud drawing of breath first but then there’s a word, a response to his question.

“Dean.”

Of course, it has to be him. It’s always him. Jack wraps one arm around Sam. He doesn’t resist, he’s pliant. Damn, warm skin, musky smell. A little bit of sweat and beer, his perfume. A smell that stabs straight-up to Jack’s crotch. He kicks out of it, presses himself against Sam’s back. Jack holds him tight, eyes still glowing. Sam starts shifting, his conscience wakes, Jack can feel it.

“Shh, it’s okay, Sammy, sleep,” Jack says in a Dean-voice. 

Magic tingles in his insides, fill him up, and makes him feel better. Powerful. He rubs against that hot and welcoming body of Sam. It’s thrilling that he is asleep. When Jack tries to picture doing this with his caretaker, this doesn’t feel as good as now. Sam’s responsive, he even presses his ass against Jack with a deep and shaky sigh. But he is at Jack's mercy, he's helpless. Weak. A strong person like Sam, the hunter. Always struggling for control, who's afraid of change and shies away from intimacy; oh, Sam. Strong as a tree and a force to be reckoned with. All of that is stripped away in his sleep. Jack loves to see him that vulnerable, so pure. Sam's shifting, moaning, and his other sweet noises make Jack's cock grow harder and harder. He shyly reaches for Sam's cock, just to find out, he's hard as well. Incredibly thick and long, it looks still insanely big in Jack's bare hand. A few gentle and soft strokes and Sam whimpers, his eyebrows furrow, his lips part. His tongue flickers over his upper lip and then there's this moan. Again. A moan. A name. Full of longing. And Jack's magic works wonders, Sam arches and Jack jerks him hard now, buries his face on Sam's neck, and whines softly himself. 

“Yes, like that, Sammy… just like that”, Jack whispers, his voice trembling in pleasure. 

Maybe it's because he is asleep, but Sam cums just early with a few long, broken moans all over Jack's hand. 

He needs to be quick now, hurry! Jack catches every drop of Sam's cum to cover his cock with it. He needs to feel Sam's insides around him, clenching his cock. He wants to feel his cock rub in Sam's insides and tear apart what keeps Sam together. He wants total surrender. Feel him raw, chase an orgasm and fill him up. Just this one time…

“Dean, don't…”, Sam mutters.

His eyelids flutter slightly. Is he about to wake up? Oh, please no.  _ No no no! Don't ruin it now, Sam! _ The air around them starts crackling when Jack works magic upon Sam.

“It's okay, Sammy, it's all good. I'm here.”

Sam's eyes fall shut again and Jack breathes out heavily. The tip of his cock presses against Sam's anus and he pushes in. Slowly. Jack hisses at the sensation, the tightness, the hot surroundings. Sam groans and whines, his hand grabs Jack's. It’s a strong grip like someone drowning or falling trying to hold on to someone else. It’s a good feeling. Sam is dependent on Jack now, not the other way around. Jack gives. He can give, he can control, he can create or destroy and there’s no one in this bunker to stop him. Sam won’t, most of all. His sleeping body moves as a response to Jack’s thrusts. He holds his lover tight, because that’s what you call someone you have sex with, right? He lifts Sam’s upper leg and pulls it close to his own body, pushes in deeper. Sam’s silky insides feel so good, so incredibly good. Why did he reject Jack all the time, when it feels so divine? The angle shifts, and Sam suddenly arches, his fingernails dig in Jack’s arm and the leg that Jack hiked up to fuck him deeper kicks helplessly and Sam cums again, this time untouched.

Sam is sobbing in his muzzy state, it’s a thin line from pleasure to pain. But this sob is enough for Jack to lose it. With a growl and a strong bite, - that will leave a mark - Jack cums inside Sam, pumps his seed inside his ass, fills him up. The feeling is so overwhelming, fulfilling, he can’t see or breathe for a moment, all he does is still ram his twitching cock inside Sam until the waves of his orgasms finally break and calm down. 

Jack is covered in sweat now, breathing heavily, his nose pressed in Sam’s neck. As he lets go of Sam’s leg, he immediately crawls up in a sleeping position again. Muffled sob’s, muffled Dean’s. 

Jack wants to tear Sam apart for thinking of his brother, why was he better? Why couldn’t Sam like Jack? He just gave him so much pleasure!

There’s a cold flame of rage burning in his stomach when he gets up and gets back in his briefs with shaky legs. 

The noise. The gasp. 

“What the fuck, Jack?”

Jack feels a sudden hot terror driving down his spine and when he turns around, there’s Dean in the doorframe. His nostrils flaring.

“What. Have. You. Done. To. Him?!”

It’s no surprise when Dean slams Jack against a wall, a hand on his throat, a knife poking the fabric of his underwear. 

Jack smirks.

Then his eyes glow in rich gold. 

“You know what I did”, he says, his voice a singsong, “I gave him what he wanted.” 

Dean turns white as a sheet, he even stops breathing for a second. There are so many emotions crossing Dean’s face, it’s fascinating to watch and wait which emotion would win. 

“You always wanted a taste of him, too… right?”

The dark room illuminates with the golden sparks that fly from Jack’s eyes. There’s the sound of crackling in the air, it smells of petrichor and flowers. 

The room smells heavily of rain and sunshine and daisies when Jack leaves and the last thing he sees before he shuts Sam’s bedroom door is Dean, who leans over his brother, ready to take what Jack left for him.

There’s nothing human in the angel’s face.


End file.
